


A King and a Queen

by Potoo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potoo/pseuds/Potoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Your father is a wise man, Rhaenys. Lions do not need to fear anyone or anything. They are the Kings of the beasts.”</i><br/><i>“And dragons are the Gods of the beasts,” Rhaegar added.</i><br/><i>Cersei stroked her daughter’s hair. “A good thing you are both, Rhaenys. A Queen and a Goddess.” Rhaenys blushed even deeper at those words from her mother. With her red cheeks and her golden hair, she could have blended in with Casterly Rock’s tapestries.</i> </p><p>-</p><p>Rhaegar married Cersei. Things are very different; there is no war and Aerys does not die on a sword. Things are very similar; the dragon has two heads and Cersei has three children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A King and a Queen

The children had her eyes. Even the prince that was promised, young Aegon, a vivid and bright boy of seven years, lacked the dragon’s purple eyes. His elder sister even sported her mother’s hair, beautiful golden ringlets tumbling down her back. Barely nine years old, she already looked more regal than the Queen Dowager, her own grandmother. She would make a greater and fiercer Queen than her namesake, but beside that, Rhaegar’s young daughter had nothing in common with the first Rhaenys. She sang and danced and smiled as prettily as her mother, but it was difficult to imagine her a warrior queen riding a dragon into battle.  
Perhaps she needn’t fight at all, his little princess. The song of ice and fire was the prince’s; neither Rhaenys’ nor Visenya’s. His youngest child was still clinging to her mother’s hand whenever she was at court, frightened and intimidated by all the Lords and Ladies towering over her. She was not so shy with her family; almost of an age with Daenerys, niece and aunt had grown up as close as sisters. When Visenya did not cling to Cersei’s hand, she clung to the coat of her uncle in the Kingsguard, following him like a duckling. Jaime Lannister had little patience for children and always tried to shoo her away, but Visenya was stubborn in her quest for his affection, and Rhaegar was certain she had wormed her way into his heart. Perhaps she had imprinted on him; the day she had been born, his was the first face she had seen, in the birthing room with her mother while Rhaegar had been off fighting by Brandon Stark’s side against the Greyjoys. It did not matter why she adored him or if he reciprocated it; soon, her lessons would begin in earnest and she would have no more time to keep the knight from his duties.

Rhaegar leaned forward and placed a kiss on her hand. "Sleep well, sweetling," he told her and she smiled at him, in that innocent way only young children can. Both his daughters would be beauties, he knew, and singers would write countless songs about them, but the only song that mattered was that of his son’s.  
“Father,” she whispered in that shy voice of hers, “sing to me?” Visenya always asked for songs.  
Rhaegar shook his head. “Not tonight, princess.”  
She accepted his answer without offering any resistance. _She always gives in too easily,_ Rhaegar heard her mother’s voice in his mind. _Thank the Gods Rhaenys and Aegon are not like her._  
When Rhaegar entered Rhaenys’ rooms, his wife was already seated by her bed. She was telling the princess a story, of a lion who raced a stag. “When the stag lost, he was so angry he attacked the lion with his huge, fearsome antlers.” Rhaenys shuddered to hear that, Rhaegar could see from the door. “But, my love, lions are never alone. They live in a pride, with all their sisters and brothers, and they love one another fiercely. This lion’s pride was not far, and they came to his defense, and soon, the stag was fleeing from them like a craven.”

“I do not think stags are quite that fearsome to lions,” Rhaegar interjected. Both of his ladies looked up. Rhaenys’ face split into a great smile and even Cersei’s features softened. He joined them on the huge bed and kissed his wife’s cheek. Rhaenys blushed at the sight.  
“Your father is a wise man, Rhaenys. Lions do not need to fear anyone or anything. They are the Kings of the beasts.”  
“And dragons are the Gods of the beasts,” Rhaegar added.  
Cersei stroked her daughter’s hair. “A good thing you are both, Rhaenys. A Queen and a Goddess.” Rhaenys blushed even deeper at those words from her mother. With her red cheeks and her golden hair, she could have blended in with Casterly Rock’s tapestries.

She looked exactly like her, Rhaegar thought, or how Cersei had looked at that age. He still remembered the first time they had met, when Tywin had brought both his children to court just after the death of his wife and her stillborn child. She had been eight years old and Rhaegar had been fifteen, and he had already been a man; and his father had rewarded Tywin Lannister’s leal service with the hand of his son. Rhaegar had watched Cersei grow and flower at court, had witnessed her breasts budding and her curves forming, and he didn’t remember her ever entering that coltish stage other young girls went through. She had grown from a lovely child to a beautiful woman in scarcely a week, it seemed to him now, and there was no woman in the seven kingdoms who could match her grace.

Her character was a different matter altogether. Cersei was rash and she could harbor grudges forever; she was too proud and too fond of herself, he thought at times. She took every misplaced word as a slight against her person or her children. Yet she could be gentle too, and her counsel was surprisingly sound.  
He remembered the arrival of Elia Martell at court, only a few weeks after Tywin Lannister’s presentation of his daughter. She had been lovely too, and closer to Rhaegar’s age. Her eyes had been a beautiful dark brown. Maybe he had loved her a little bit, but she had died years ago, giving birth to her third child for some Dornish lord, Rhaegar didn’t remember his name. She could not have borne him the three heads of the dragons. It was luck that had allowed Cersei to reach him first, he assumed. He had loved Elia Martell a little bit; and he had loved Cersei Lannister a little bit. 

“Good night,” Cersei said after three kisses to her daughter’s face and stood, her grass green dress falling to the ankles. “Sweet dreams.”  
“Good night, mother,” Rhaenys said politely, “good night, father.”

Cersei put her hand on Rhaegar’s back, and he slid his arm around her waist as they left Rhaenys. He looked upon his wife, who was wearing a content smile. She had looked just as content during the tourney at Harrenhal, when her brother had defeated Rhaegar and crowned her Queen of love and beauty. She became the realm’s true Queen only two years after that tourney, when Rhaegar’s father had died - but that, he would not dwell on. 

His thoughts wandered back to the tourney. Rhaegar had seen Lyanna Stark then, and she had been of such a mysterious, wild beauty he had not been able to stop thinking about the girl for weeks. But she had been promised to Robert Baratheon, and Cersei’s belly had been full of his little prince. There was nothing Rhaegar could or should have done. Lyanna had married Robert, in the end, and had given him two healthy daughters. She had glowed at the wedding, and Rhaegar had envied Robert’s luck.  
He did not do so anymore. They said Lyanna Baratheon rode her horse whenever she wasn’t eating or sleeping; and worse, they said she had lost an unborn son due to a riding accident. Robert had been furious, but that only served to make her ride even more often, and Storm’s End never saw its mistress.

“Will you join me in my chambers tonight, my King?” Cersei asked with a certain glimmer in her eyes Rhaegar had learnt to decipher well enough. Yet he shook his head, as he had often done since Visenya’s birth. The dragon had three heads, not four. Cersei’s smile froze, but she inclined her head all the same. She had been bred to be a Queen, and although Rhaegar did not desire her body anymore, he was grateful that she was the mother of his dragons. She was worthy to have borne the three heads, worthier than a frail Dornishwoman and a wild centaur, no matter how lovely those two had been.  
“Very well. I will break my fast with my ladies-in-waiting. Perhaps we shall see each other after the children’s lessons. Good night.”

She did not wait for a reply when she turned on her heels and disappeared down the corridor. Her cheeks were red. 

Rhaegar stared after her for a while.

Then, he turned around and began to walk to his own chambers. It would not do to linger on the past, on what-ifs and could-have-beens. Cersei was his Queen; he did not love her, but it mattered not.

He doubted she felt different. Cersei Lannister did not love anyone but her children, no matter how in love she had seemed at their wedding and in their marital bed. She had screamed his name and he--

had whispered hers-

And two years later, he had called out for Lyanna.

**Author's Note:**

> Rhaenys is Jaime's, the other two are Rhaegar's. Cersei was far more enthusiastic about marrying Rhaegar than she was about marrying Robert, of course, and far more enthusiastic to bear his children; but that doesn't mean sex-with-your-brother-on-the-morning-before-the-wedding can't happen.
> 
> For a kink meme [prompt](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/22142.html?thread=14234238): "Cersei/Rhaegar. They do get married and they have three children (his Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya). Rhaegar loves his children and tries to love his wife. He wonders how different things would be if he had married Elia Martell or even Lyanna Stark."


End file.
